


Mirrored Paths

by anstaar



Series: death’s champion (the line between good and evil) [3]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU of an AU, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Complicated Relationships, Magic Tree House pastiche, Multi, Short Stories, attempts at what might be considered humor, terrible people not taking things seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22984402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anstaar/pseuds/anstaar
Summary: A collection of AUs of Mirror Matter, and short stories that might have happened1-3: after a very alternate ending, the Doctor joins the Master's TARDIS, it's sure to prove a great idea4: how Harold Saxon did not become Prime Minister5: during the Doctor's travels with the Master, experiences with seeing their alternate selves brings up questions6: an except from a Magic Clubhouse Adventure, ft. Mickey & Rose
Relationships: The Doctor & The Master (Doctor Who), The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who)
Series: death’s champion (the line between good and evil) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647238
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	1. travels with my frenemy (part 1)

**Author's Note:**

> a place for some extremely indulgent ridiculousness written while working on the next chapter of Mirror Matter; events diverge from MM chapter 5 and don't reflect the actual ending

The Master claps his hands together, smiling brightly, and only a little fixedly, around the console room. “So, after all that, and considering that her TARDIS is currently maintaining the stability of reality and so on, I’m sure we all agree that giving the Doctor a lift is the least we can do!” Well, the Monk’s TARDIS, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a sacrifice. The Monk is probably very upset, for one. 

Three faces stare back at him, unimpressed. The Doctor could at least _try_ to pretend. 

Max slowly raises a hand. The Master does _not_ let his smile turn into a terrifying rictus. It doesn’t match his style. But he can see why it could be bloody tempting. “Yes, Max?”

“A lift to… space prison?” Max asks, with the desperate hope reserved for questions where you already know the answer, but still have the faith to believe that maybe this time it can be different.

“No. Any other questions?” Max doesn’t have to say ‘only of your morals’, and since he doesn’t say it, the Master doesn’t have to ignore him. 

He does ignore Nida’s “oh great, a wicked step-mother,” because she doesn’t need encouragement. Nor does anyone else in this console. 

The Doctor sighs as Max and Nida finally leave for their rooms. No doubt they’ll have plenty of other concerns tomorrow, but one of the good things about humans is that they need recharging after realities almost splintering apart on them. The Doctor looks at him. He looks at her. There’s so much to say, and both of them are usually so quick to speak. But right now – 

“I thought you had three of them?” The Doctor says, interrupting what he’d thought had been a meeting of minds over the difficulty of moving forward when there’s so much past between them, when he’d thought they’d both been wondering if it was even possible, after all the failed attempts, but also still hoped that it was. But she makes a good point, in the practical sense of things. 

“Leo’s under the console. He likes to stay there.” He tries to say this casually. He’s sure anyone else would be taken in by his tone. It’s not anyone else. 

The Doctor turns to look at the console, and then back at him. She raises an eyebrow. “I seem to remember _someone_ accusing me of strange traveling companions.”

That’s just unfair, the Doctor’s occasional companions were far stranger than anyone he’s ever picked up. “You _did_ always have strange, and morally lacking, traveling companions.”

“Hey.” She can claim tiredness all she might like, but he knows she just doesn’t have a good response. 

“You know, a couple of them survived. I found out what they were doing. Do you know how many of those advertising jingles that sounds just like it’s the start of a real song come have been produced by that disturbed clone you used to drag places? Far too many.”

She smiles a little. “I knew he’d be okay. The point _remains_ -”

The Master hopes like hell she doesn’t realize that he would sign up to spend hours arguing over stupid points in a heartbeat. Though maybe that’s just because he knows he’s right.

* * *

**Later That Night**

The Doctor stands alone in the dark console room. Here she is. With the _Master_. Not at this moment, but in general, traveling together. …Something help them all. She should be thinking of getting back to her TARDIS, and she is. She’s not one to let others drive without a little advice, and the Master has never been good at taking it. It’s sure to lead to disaster. 

But her head is more filled with the fact that there’s a chance now. A chance to make a choice about her path. She can decide her way forward, without any of the old knowledge that stronger forces would be playing their own part. Life, on her own terms. It’s something new, something remarkable. If it goes wrong, it’s _her_ going wrong. This might not necessarily be where she would’ve chosen to start out on this new adventure, but maybe it’s not the worst place, either.

There’s a faint squeak. She wonders if the Master’s come to check up on her. It would be understandable, really, after everything. After all, she has sabotaged his TARDIS almost every time she’s been inside it. And stolen important components. He was the one who said she should get a hobby other than murder. 

“Things often turn out okay, here, against statistically normal odds,” say a quiet and unfamiliar voice. 

The Doctor is a Time Lord. Just the whisper of her name can make armies run and change the destiny of empires. She most definitely doesn’t jump just because there’s an unexpected voice at floor level. 

She looks down at the boy, who inches out of sight beneath the console as soon as he sees her looking at him. 

“Great. That’s one companion’s blessing. We’re all going to get on famously.” She could almost feel bad for the Master, but then, he can be very annoying.


	2. travels with my frenemy (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and the Master enjoy an amusement park

“Oh, this will be fun,” the Doctor says, brightly. “Really, I can barely wait for things to start off, point me towards the entrenched power system that needs protecting from any sort of reform and call me Sally. Just show me the way to the iron boots we can use for stomping on the necks of the oppressed forever.” 

The Master sighs. “I only asked if you wanted to come out with us, I didn’t accuse you of anything.” He had, in fact, very carefully _not_ tried for any promise of not throwing everything into chaos or even of basic good behavior. The first step towards trust is acting like it already exists. And planning carefully for the worst. It might not have completely succeeded in turning away accusations of being patronizing. On the other hand, she still holding his arm instead of off destroying anything, so it hadn’t been a failure. “And you know very well that’s not what I do. Especially not in an amusement park I brought us to for a break in fighting.”

“Amusement parks,” the Doctor says, shaking her head darkly, “A name that frequently heralds a hotbed of oppression.”

“Not this one.”

“Really.”

“ _Really_.”

They lock gazes.

“The workers?”

“Extremely unionized, and the owners of the park.”

“Oh, exclusive, are they.”

“Exclusive in making sure the people here want to be here, out of all they can chose in their multi-species collaborative collective.”

“I noticed you paid our way in.”

“Completely voluntary donation. It helps pay for the upkeep, with any extra going towards planetary infrastructure.”

“The rides?”

“Waterslides, a few rollercoasters and a sprinkling of fun historical exhibits, so children can get carefully _not_ sanitized history in a way open to all learning styles.”

The Doctor almost looks impressed. “Planned ahead, did you?”

“I try.”

After a few more paces under the arching trees, she adds, “So, after they get traumatized by memories of destruction and almost murdered at least three times, you bring your followers to a sad space socialist water park.”

“They’re used to it.” And a lack of some of the more exciting rides that can be found in other parks is made up for in avoiding trouble. He pauses, pen almost ready to correct the not fully accurate sign next to one of the trees. “ _Three_ times?”

“They came awful close to getting on my nerves.”

* * *

“ _Animatronics_ ,” The Doctor hisses, hands on her hips. “You brouth us somewhere with _animatronics_.”

The Master ducks another blast of energy. “They’re educational!”

“They’re never educational! They’re evil! They’re _always_ evil! This is the most obvious plan! You should be able to spot the most obvious plan.”

As Wilfrid Laurier had almost managed to singe her coat before she’d figured out the frequency of the energy blasts, he decides to let that one go. 

“PRIME MINISTER, PRIME MINISTER, PRIME MINISTER,” the robots chant in a grating chorus of poorly programmed accents. 

“There are better ways of protesting translation errors leading to ‘the Hall of Canadian Presidents,” he points out, not sure if he should hope that there’s cameras capturing this or not. “You can always leave a note. It says on the sign.” He turns back to the Doctor. “Ready with the sonic?”

“Always. Are you ready?”

“Just – now.” His bait has worked, the greater mass of the animatronic Prime Ministers is in perfect position to be taken down by the double attack. 

And, he reflects later, as they share a plate of what seem to be fried biscuits, a present from the grateful staff, watching the various apologies, promises to do better and official waving the debt to society form, she hadn’t asked if he was ready with his pathetic rip-off of her material. A promising day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nida and Max spent a few hours trapped in the Hall of American Presidents, where Bruce Springsteen taught them how to shred. The vote not to learn how historically accurate that was.


	3. travels with my frenemy (part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> title drop

“Who are you?” The bouncer asks. A long time ago, the Master had started on a set of graphs to mark all the ways he’d been asked that question. It was a more ambitious project then some might think; considering variations of language, different tones, having to calculate the probable times when he might not have directly heard the question but knew it still had been asked, marking planets and regenerations… He had created shimmering projections that swirled above him in the air like a piece of art. Then he’d regenerated. When he’d stumbled into the graph room, still trying to figure out where his hair had gone, he’d stared at his work for several moments before shouting ‘what am I doing with my life’, ejecting the room from the TARDIS and going out pop-crawl that had ended with him hanging upside down in a dungeon, wearing six party hats. 

He still isn’t entirely sure which of those regenerations was the midlife crisis. 

These days, he couldn’t pull up _how_ many times he’s been asked to provide an identity, but sometimes he suspects it out strips his age. This particular version isn’t hard to deal with, a rote check from an Arlllin, who are much smarter than people often accuse rock-like species of being, but still tend to end up working as bouncers on the outer planets of the Empire. As long as it’s an answer, the bouncer doesn’t really care what it is. 

The Master resists the urge to adjust his tie for a slightly more rakish angle. The fashion around here sadly tends towards the dull, especially for someone who wants to appear to fit the category of ‘well-off male in position of authority’. The Doctor, of course, hasn’t even bothered changing.

“I am the Master, and this is my… friend –”

“Frenemy with benefits,” the Doctor interjects, at almost the exact same moment.

* * *

“Really?” He asks, ten minutes later, checking around the dark alleyway next to the club to make sure no one’s there to see them breaking in through the window. “Watch your foot!”

“What?” The Doctor says, ignoring his yelp and continuing not to pay any attention to where she’s swinging her feet, up where she’s holding on to the window frame as she undoes the locks with a low buzz of her screwdriver. Boasting her up had _not_ been easy, there are times he has regrets about being the taller one this time. “How was I supposed to know you were planning on introducing me? It’s not my fault Arlllin’s can’t manage two mildly conflicting answers to a question. Or that they’re immune to psychic paper. There.”

He has to doge out of the way as she tosses another bar down. The security system is a good sign that they’re suspicions were right, but he would’ve preferred checking that on the inside, as honored guests, instead of immediately going for the breaking and entering. He’s not entirely sure she hadn’t messed up their entrance on purpose, as breaking in had been her first suggestion. 

The Doctor leans down from her perch, almost upside down. “Besides, with everything, it might be pushing it to jump straight to going for ‘friend’. Maybe go through intermediate stages like ‘old school acquaintance’ or ‘colleague’ or ‘ _distant_ colleague or –”

“Frenemy?” 

“There’s a certain ring to it. Are you coming up or am I doing this alone? That might be a better idea.”

He scowls up at her, which he’s sure she knows, even as she turns back to the window, even as he strains to pull himself up. He has to suppress several curses as his nicely shined shoes skid slightly against the wall and it’s a good thing he didn’t rent this suit as there’s no getting back. “…What’s the benefits part?” He asks, balancing carefully on the ledge next to the Doctor. She had better have remembered to turn off the intruder alarms too.

She grins at him. “Knowing me, of course.”


	4. past reflections (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Harold Saxon doesn't become Prime Minister, and the Doctor destroyed Gallifrey. Not that he talks about it.

There are two humans standing outside of the Doctor’s TARDIS. 

The Doctor already hadn’t been in a great mood. He’s just finished a space cruise where half the guests had died in ways tied ‘ironically’ to their names (or so he’d been told, though some of them had been a real stretch, or, like the helmet that had taken out Bill, just lazy), which could have been amusing, in its own way, but he’d just wanted a relaxing cruise where he could drink cocktails and collect amusing tourist necklaces. He had not wanted to be harassed by terrible amateur detectives who had felt that they had the right to his time. Now he’s come home to find humans standing around looking like _he’s_ the one who’s unreasonable. 

“We’ve been here for _ages_ ,” the human girl without a self-preservation instinct says, folding her arms. 

“I was out. They have nice cruises. Sometimes you need a break from all the murder.” Even the man, who the Doctor has pegged as slightly more sensible, looks a little incredulous at that. Maybe he’d heard about the cruise.

“You have a _time and space_ machine. And you went out for a _cruise_.” 

“I like cruises. What do you know about it, anyway? And why are you hanging out around my home?” 

“We were looking for you. Big blue box, just as they say. Do you never change it?”

“I like my TARDIS, just as she is. Even if it leads to annoying tourists that need disposing of.” He’s off his stride, that sort of line deserves the level of unimpressed he gets back. He rests his head against his TARDIS, hoping it’ll absorb some of the throbbing. “You have until I finish unlocking the door to produce a reason that I should remember this.”

The girl goes from angry to upset, or possibly it’s always been upset. It’s such a bother to try to read them. 

“Mr. Saxon is running for Prime Minister!”

* * *

“He’s doing what?” The Doctor asks, again, after they’ve all settled down around one of the TARDIS’ kitchen tables. He has a cup of tea and his headache has grown softer. His ‘guests’ don’t have any tea, but they’d been smart enough not to ask. 

“He’s running for Prime Minister,” the girl repeats. 

The Doctor stares at the kettle for a few moments. “We’re talking about the same ‘Harold Saxon’, right? Round face, bad haircut, actually an alien called ‘the Master’?” He shakes his head. “That can’t be right. Britain’s real authoritarian period isn’t due for – well, shouldn’t tell you that, probably. More exciting finding out yourself. Let me just say that instead you have an amusing few years coming up. Amusing from my perspective.” 

The girl – she’d introduced herself, he thinks, but humans come and go with only manner of death to remind you of their names – nods. “But there’s nothing wrong with his hair.”

The Doctor snaps his fingers. “Wait, Tyler, was it your mum who did his hair after I destroyed our planet?”

“Yeah, she’s done it for years. When he first came in, she thought it was about a bad breakup. We only learned about the whole destruction of your planet part later.” 

“It can be both. Anyway, he just told you he was an alien?”

“I figured it out,” the girl, Rose, says. 

“How’d you do that then?”

* * *

**[Flashback]**

“What are you thinking about so hard?” ‘Harold Saxon’ had asked, in a slightly awkward attempt at jocular. 

“Are you an alien?” Rose Tyler, age thirteen, had asked, from where she was sitting on a chair, staring at him. 

He tried to laugh. “Why would you think that?” He had enough sense not to add, ‘little girl’, to the end of his question.

“You’re always talking about how they do things on Venus or how stars really work,” Rose had pointed out, logically. 

He had tried to think of a rebuttal but given up in the face of the Tyler stare. “…Yes, I’m an alien. 

**[End Flashback]**

* * *

The Doctor’s eyebrows raise. “That was an astonishing degree of observation. Which sounds sarcastic, but it’s genuinely surprising that a human from your time and place would pick up on that. How many times has New Years featured an alien invasion by now, and people still ignore it?” The New Years thing was probably his fault, actually, but not the part where people still act like believing in aliens is crazy after the hundredth invasion. 

He peers at her. “Is there something wrong with you?”

Rose scowls at him. “I have experience with… strange things.”

“That’s for sure,” the other human says, in a shocking demonstration that he’s capable of speech. “Ouch.”

The Doctor shrugs, deciding it’s not that important. “That’s all very funny, and I might understand why the Master hasn’t wanted to get into just how his extremely overcomplicated plan to get himself back from the end of the universe ended up playing out, but why are you here?”

“This is wrong. He shouldn’t be Prime Minister, but he’s not listening to anyone. You’re the only one who might be able to stop him!”

“Why would I?”

“I’ll hit you with a stick if you don’t.”

“She’ll do it,” the man puts in, “She’s still from back before humans learned our more peaceful ways.”

The Doctor rolls his eyes, “You can drop that one right now. I can recognize a Time Agent when I see one. That’s the trouble with killing to old guardians of time, you lot came along.”

The man tries to look innocent. The girl has, indeed, produced a large stick. 

The Doctor sighs, taking another sip of tea and ignoring the argument about ‘Mickey’ and ‘far better back up’. Prime Minister. Just _what_ is the Master thinking? Now he’s curious. Rassilon knows that he’s always been too curious. 

The Doctor had told one of his fellow bar visitors on the cruise that it was funny to swear by Rassilon, as the founder of his civilization _had_ known, but now doesn’t because he had been killed, by the Doctor. The Man had said, ‘Oh, like a Klingon,” so, really, he had deserved his terrible, and presumably ironic in some fashion, death. The Doctor hadn’t bothered finding out his name so he can’t be sure. 

“Fine. Put the stick away. I didn’t destroy my entire planet, killing everyone and everything I had once known, to let the Master go about bleaching his hair with being mocked.” 

The two humans exchange a probably meaningless look.

* * *

The Master is swiveling band forth in his chair, looking so obnoxiously relaxed that the Doctor decides to put aside his potential plans of vengeance against Rose and Jack. This can’t be allowed to continue. And, besides, they’ll probably die all by themselves, no need to put himself out. 

“My ten o’clock appointment –” The Master stops. They look at each other. Centuries have passed, worlds have been destroyed, but some things don’t need to be spelled out. The Doctor _is_ holding a sign that says, ‘congratulations on your resignation’, but that’s just to rub things in.

Jack had helped him print it out, which is another reason to let the (former) Time Agent survive.

* * *

In years to come, ‘Harold Saxon’ will come to be a meme. Generally, one that suggests that even the rubbish currently going was better than a Minister that bad. Even if most people completely fail to remember the whole part about his alien invasion agenda. 

The Doctor gets a t-shirt that says, ‘you can thank me for your democracy’. The Master is unamused every time he sees it, which is reason enough to actually wear a t-shirt. 

He never does get the full story on just how over complicated a plan the Master had set up to get back from where he had hidden away during the war where the Doctor had destroyed Gallifrey, throughout time. Possibly he shouldn’t have upset Jackie Tyler if he had wanted all the details. Still, what he does pick up leaves him in an almost good mood for weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the Master became the Master instead of Yana again due to an extremely over-complicated plan that involved three different versions of the Master, a quest, two children and many interesting historical facts. it is all recorded in the series 'The Magic Clubhouse Adventures' staring Mickey Smith (almost 10) and Rose Tyler (7 1/2).


	5. travels with my frenemy (part 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's a question of children

The sound of laughter drifts from the miniature golf course, the finishing touch on the picture of a picturesque spring dusk. The sunset had been almost offensively beautiful, the air is the perfect temperature to sit and enjoy the low hum of the natural world that stops the Earth from ever being truly silent. It’s the sort of evening made for quiet contemplation and good company. 

It’s also the sort of evening made to play miniature golf with friends, but since they were kicked out, he can manage to wait with the Doctor until the others are finished. _Some_ might say that true friends would have quit in protest, but, to be fair, the Master can remember waving them on when the damn rules robot had trundled over, back when he’d been sure that he’d be able to explain his side. He really hates dealing with stupid robots. If he didn’t know the Doctor would smirk at him forever, he would’ve upgraded it a little bit, but he could already hear her quoting his perfectly reasonable words about playing for fun and it not really mattering and not getting banned by destroying robots from ten minutes before when she had been kicked off. 

Still, it’s a nice night. The Doctor had managed to restrain her gloating to only three minutes when he’d stalked over to join her on the bench and, in good practice that still feels against the rules of drama, when the sprinklers turned on they hadn’t ended up being sprayed with water. Max shouts something he can’t hear, but he wouldn’t be able to honestly claim that he thought it was a sign that something had gone wrong, so no going over to see, perhaps taking out any robot that tried to slow him down...

“Is this some sort of call for help?” The Doctor asks. Her hair glows slightly in the fading light and her look of concern is a work of art. The Master is almost impressed, but not enough to play her game. 

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I mean.”

“Amazingly, I still know the answer is no.”

She leans over to pluck a ticket stub out of his pocket. She makes it disappear and reappear with simple twists of her fingers. He gives her his flattest look. 

“I thought you were over magic tricks. You don’t have the cloak for it.”

“Family special.”

“It was cheaper.” Nida claims that they’d gotten the special discount for divorced parents who are attempting to stay friends ‘for the children’ and so drag them all out to activities like miniature golf where they can pretend proximity is the same as getting along and that the fights are about a bad call instead of the deep-seated issues that had led to their separation. He’s almost certain she was making that one up, but this _is_ the time of the extremely specific coupon. It’s that, or they had lied about the ice creams being free. 

The Doctor rolls her eyes. “Because that’s so important.” 

“Just because _you_ never stay anywhere long enough for money to mean anything… Some of us try to pay attention.”

“Right, all those decades playing spy. I don’t have to ask if you paid your taxes, but how many other people did you help file everything properly? But let’s not get distracted by the many emotional issues I never want you to talk about, this is much more important.” 

“This isn’t anything.”

The Doctor, of course, ignores him. “Do you remember how much time you spent with your parents? Of course you do, because it’s easy to keep track of those six or seven times when there was an interaction that could maybe be described as holding some meaning. Remember the moment you were old enough to finally realize that the people who most accurately could be called your caretakers were members of lower social orders paid to make sure of your basic wellbeing, and how you were already set on a path moving away from any true interaction with them? How could any of us have survived at school without that first sharp introduction to the way the world worked. Remember our children, and how much of a part we didn’t play in raising them? Or doing anything with them? This back when they were alive, obviously.”

“Do you really have to do this now? We agreed on playing by the rules at the beginning, pulling out a magnetic golf club isn’t in the rules. Having to sit out a round isn’t the end of the world.”

“No, we know what the end of the world is like.”

He counts to ten. She probably counts dead children. It would explain the smile. No, he is _not_ going to let her get to him. She can accuse him of trying to provoke reactions all she likes; he knows she’s just as bad. Thing have been going well. He’s not going to be pulled into a fight just because she’s bored. 

“It’s so rare we get a chance to reminisce. Let’s not do it again any time soon. Unless _you_ enjoy extremely amateur psychologizing from traveling companions. They can hear a hint of a sad childhood from thirty meters.”

“I’d think they’d just have to look at your everything. Including the worrying question of whether you’re trying to recreate some sort of family situation that literally never existed. I think it’s a bit late for another go at parenting. No matter how many little collars you carefully embroider yourself…” 

The Master hits his head against his knees. “That was a _different universe_ ,” his voice is only a little muffled. 

The Doctor pats his back, insufferable grin obvious in her voice. “You can admit you want my children, as long as you realize what a bad idea it is.”

The robots end up evicting them to the parking lot for dueling with golf clubs. In the face of his companions raised eyebrows, the Master tries to look like someone who definitely didn’t start the fight. He has an example to set, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...'inspired' by some of my thoughts during the finale


	6. Magic Clubhouse Adventures: Except from 'Morning on Mars'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Ancient Mars, Mickey and Rose meet a noble Ice Warrior named Izdaal!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be fair to the Master's extremely over-complicated and dramatic plan on how to get back from the end of the Universe, he thought his TARDIS would find slightly older helpers

“Slow down, Rose,” Mickey shouts, red dust rising into the air where his sandals hit the ground. He wishes he was wearing his trainers. Alien sandals are not great for running. If Mickey had breath to spare, he would laugh. There’s no way he would’ve thought something like that a few weeks ago, but that was before the clubhouse. 

Rose has stopped on what Mickey thinks of as a ‘corner’. It’s probably called something else. It’s pretty funny to see Rose, with her pigtails, in a too large armored shirt, waiting impatiently for him like she just wants to cross a road when they’re next to an alien canal. 

“I said you shouldn’t have taken off your trainers,” Rose says, crossing her arms. 

Mickey crosses his arms back at her, “What’d you think my gran would say if I came back with my new trainers all covered in red dust?”

“The clubhouse probably has something that could clean them!”

Mickey rolls his eyes. Rose thinks the clubhouse is really magic. Rose is sort of Mickey’s friend. He doesn’t say that out loud, usually, ‘cause she’s a girl and younger than him and he can’t not protest that he has better stuff to do than keep an eye out on her. She’s usually okay, really, but sometimes he remembers she’s basically a little kid. 

Other times, Mickey regrets being told to be helpful and watch Rose because she might be okay but she’s also _absolutely insane_. He’s only realized this recently. He’s always known that sometimes Rose accidentally runs away because she follows after what she thinks is interesting and forgets to say. Everyone knows that Rose Tyler never backs down from a dare and is sure to make it go even bigger if there’s even a hint that someone thinks she won’t be able to do it ‘cause she’s a little girl. But then they’d found what she calls the magic clubhouse. 

They had found it together, though it’s Rose’s fault. Mickey had heard the strange noises, but he heard plenty of strange things. Rose was the one who had followed them, and then gone into the strange little building that he’d had to agree hadn’t been there before there was the noise. He’d had to follow after her, in case someone was in there. Mickey doesn’t know what he would’ve done if he’d opened the door into the strange room full of books if Rose hadn’t been there. He likes to think he would’ve been sensible and just tried to forget it. 

Rose had been thrilled that they’d found a building that was bigger on the inside than it was on the outside, even if they couldn’t get through any of the other doors. She was the one who’d sat down to look through the books, even though he’d pointed out that they probably meant someone would be coming back soon. She was the one who had poked that stupid button that had sent them on their first adventure/that time they’d almost been eaten by dinosaurs. 

Mickey can’t pretend he doesn’t think the machine – it’s got to be a machine of some kind, not magic – is very cool. He’s even enjoyed their trips. He’s seen more than he ever imagined, probably more than anyone else on the estate. They’ve also had a lot of very narrow scrapes, he silently thanks the Venetian gondolier, the American cowboy, the Draconian warrior, and a lot of others who have helped them out. 

Rose doesn’t seem to notice the danger. She’s more interested in trying to find the components that were written down on that stupid list they’d found. Mickey agrees that it was probably left by the same mysterious ‘M’ whose medallion he’d found in prehistoric times and who had had a place in Draconian society, but he’s not sure if he wants to meet this ‘M’ person. What sort of person owned such an amazing machine? Or left it to be found by a couple of kids? 

Rose suddenly giggles. “It looks like you already got all the Martian dust we’ll need, right there! We don’t need to go back for those vials if you don’t want to.”

He looks down at the dust that’s settled now that he’s not running and sighs. His trousers are going to be as hard to explain as his trainers would’ve been. “Let’s go back to the clubhouse. Now we have the dust.”

Rose’s eyes widen. Mickey thinks that she’s about to argue they should stay longer to explore, but then he realizes she’s looking at something behind him! He turns slowly. He has to look up, up, up into the face of a very large alien. It turns out Martians aren’t little at all!

“Where do you think you’re going?” The alien asks. 

Mickey gulps.


End file.
